Hetalian households: Mornings with the Uk residency
by thebewilderedhorse
Summary: The U.k household, a glance into the most dysfunctional family. Features Ireland and America. Rated T for swearing.
1. Ireland

Morning 1  
"Don't go in there!"  
America stared at Wales who was leaning against the door of Ireland's room. His eyes full of panic, Ireland pushed the door open knocking the small man over and onto America.  
"Dude what happened Ireland, is she hung over?"  
"If you ever see Ireland hungover run as far away as possible. This is just Ireland in the morning,"  
She turned around facing the two men as they trembled in each others arms, they could hear her muttering to her self  
"get a room... waking me up for God knows what."  
Scotland had the misfortune of running into her and not seeing who it was,  
"what do you think you're doin'?... Shit."  
"Think- Think, It's the morning I'm not even breathing yet."

She shoved him into the wall and contiuned trudging along, making her way towards the kitchen where salvation in the form of food and tea would await her. Her half brother Northern Ireland had made her a fry, not expecting thanks he handed her the plate only for it to be thrown back at him.  
"Breakfast! Ha! Nothing says good morning like dead animals! Fried slices of pig, with tubes of pig, fungi and a chickens period on a plate! HA!"  
She shoved the plate back at her brother going towards the presses now yelling her rant,  
"OR YOU CAN BE HEALTHY WITH DUST AND MILK! THAT'S RIGHT I'VE READ THE BOXES, AND WITH FIBRE. I JUST CAN'T CONTAIN MY EXCITEMENT AT FIBRE OH HOW YOU KEEP ME UP AT NIGHT!"

She slammed the press doors and left the kitchen bashing into England who was telling America to hurry up and get ready, only spurring another response from the grumpy Irish woman.  
"Oh so you think you're going to be late, well let me ask you this. WHY does it matter when you show up? You could turn up three hours late in your flying mint bunny footy pajamas, scratching your balls with a fork and you'd still have to face that same shit. We all face the same thing day in day out so why the fuck should we bother. In the end we're just the players on some B team of an American sport that the world takes too seriously, and most of the people in this building are just subs."

In the last part of her sentence she turned her eyes to the men behind her. Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland, the Isle of Mann and the channel islands. The hall fell silent as she left to get out of the way of everyone before she truly exploded and left them in tears.  
"I hate when she's right like that."

* * *

**So Ireland really isn't a morning person. The jokes come from Dylan Moran, I edited it in places. On a side note, Ireland and England are both big fans of the series "The black books". Next up, Scotland's morning.**


	2. Scotland (and Wales?)

Morning 2-Scotland (and Wales?)  
"BEEP BEEP BEEP"  
"SHUT UP NORTH!"  
"Wales cooked this morning, we're going to live! I've never felt this relieved in my life!"  
The young man legged it out of the room of his older brother and mentor. Scotland smiled to him self, he acted grumpier then he actually was in the morning so people would leave him alone. He went off towards the bathroom in hopes of getting he first shower, and in turn hot water. He was not lucky. England was in the bathroom singing in the shower, leaving Scotland swearing under his breath, hoping that his younger brother did not use all the hot water but knew that England was not that considerate. This was definitely going to be a reason on his list of why independence was better.

"Wales that is not what we eat at breakfast time!"  
He heard North yelling through the floor. His personal "alarm clock" was the usual breakfast cook but today had to hand over duties to the rest of family due to his boss complaining about him being overworked. He heard footsteps coming up the stair light and quick footsteps, the Isle of Mann.  
"It's a war-zone down there. Under no circumstances are you to go down there. Wales has his fucking dragon involved!"  
Just about comprehending the strange accented boy who then dashed away, he took into account a number of factors but decided that he liked the house just little too much to let Wales burn it down, after all it had his best whiskey in the basement. Sprinting down the stairs he nearly knocked over the Channel Islands  
"It's bad enough I've to wake up every morning with a fear of France being in my bad but this! AHHH!"  
All that made Scotland move faster...

"Wales put the flame thrower down."  
He felt to arms wrap around him looking down, his little brother was hugging him from behind his back shaking violently. Scotland facepalmed, Wales's "dragon" was in reality his favourite flame thrower. He was worse then Ireland and for being able to pull random things from nowhere. Knowing that words were not that brothers strong point, he took action in the form of a firm punch to the nose, knocking him back and out. The house had a certain amount of precautions for Wales, such as every room having fire extinguishers. Taking the one off the kitchen wall he put of all the little fires that had started burning away the various objects. Emptying the remanined of the foam on his brother before making himself a cup of tea.

England walked into the kitchen to see one of his brothers on the floor, one covered in foam and the other sitting at a chair like nothing had happened. Oh yeah, the kitchen was full of steam, the floor was wet and there was a distinct smell of burnt venison.  
"Wales?"  
"Fucking Wales."

* * *

**Okay so I made Scotland a bit of a hero. He's the eldest of the household and not as bad in the mornings as you'd think, I reckon one raging morning person is enough for any household. If you want Wales to get his own chapter let me know, but this kinda cover him, at least I think anyway... Next up England...**

* * *

Added extra, since I got two favourites I'm in a great mood and I've put my family tree of the U.k and Ireland.

**Britannia+Pictland B+Hibernnia H+La Tene La Tene+Pictland**

_ same mother same father same mother _  
**Scotland-1/2brother-Northern Ireland-1/2 sister-Ireland-1/2 brother-Isle of Man**

**Britannia+Hallstadt Britannia+Germania? **

_same parents same mother_  
**Wales-brother-Channel Islands-1/2 brother-England**

So except Ireland and Man, they've all got Britannia as a mother. Halstadt and La Tene are the two types of Celt. The question mark with Germania is that I'm not 100% certain if that's right or not.  
So pretty much all of the U.k are half siblings... at some point I will write them arguing with each other over who has the best father.


	3. England

Morning 3, England  
England didn't get a good wake up call. Not since his mother passed away, Man had taken it on himself to ensure that England would get up on time regardless of the consequences.  
"Get up."  
see that would be a fine wake up call from Man, if he didn't follow it up with a punch to the stomach on Mondays and Thursdays, pulling his blanket off on Tuesdays and Wednesday, Friday and Saturday were pretty bad with Man actually pulling him off the bed but Sunday was the worst. Man threw holy water on him. This amount would vary from a cup full to the face, to being a bucketful depending on his mood. He blamed La Tene for that habit.

Today was a Thursday. It was his second time getting a punch to the stomach that week, and it didn't feel any better then before. England, irritated by painful awakening left hoping that someone had put the immersion on and that there would be hot water. Ireland had been around, her fear of the immersion tank exploding effected the whole household. No hot water.

Wales had mad his claim to the shower. England walked in on the scene and left swearing,  
"I take it you'll want some eye bleach?"  
His older brother Northern Ireland was passing him in the hall, giggling but at least he wasn't Scotland. Of all the household, North was the only one capable of having a normal morning, which was odd, given that he was well an Ireland. Speaking of Ireland, the girl trudged through the house throwing a death glare at anything that moved. As awful as he found the morning, Ireland seemed to truly hate that time of day, she didn't pass leaving him unscathed. He made the mistake of making (unintentional) eye contact with her, and thus contact with the wall behind.  
"It's rude to stare Britsy-boy, now if you don't mind I've to find my fucking face!"  
Years of living with her made these visits. easier to handle, but there were many morning, much like these ones where she stopped making any sense. Much like many other aspects of his life he had learned that it was better tolerate certain things rather then learn the hard way. With Ireland the lessons almost always came the hard way.

"Move Eyebrows."  
Oh and then there was Scotland. England felt his feet coming off the ground, expecting the eldest of his brothers to throw him, he braced himself for the worst.  
"I'm not that bad,"  
England relaxed a little only, in that brief moment, Scotland dropped him in a heap on the ground and walked off laughing, leaving him where he. Picking himself off the ground the had encountered the worst of the family, he only had to survive the the meal they said was the most important.  
"Get the fuck of me Dragon boy,"  
England heard the only female voice in the house, though he often thought that if you wrote down what she said it would look like a sailor talking. Opening the door and ducking out of the way of the Welshman now flying through the air. The table looked, well normal. Not normal peoples normal, his familys normal. Ireland and North were bickering with each other, Scotland was reading a newspaper knocking back a cup of coffee, Manny and Channy were having an argument over which of them was the most likely to win in a fight with out actually fighting. Wales standing behind England took out a stick and continuously struck him as he carried out his business. Scotland put the cup down, rolled up the news paper and joined Wales. North joined in, in his own way, by poking England's arm.  
"9 centuries of this shit and you still take it?"  
"I'm surprised you haven't rebelled yet eyebrows."  
His family, that Goddamn family he had, he would get no peace with them.

* * *

**Oh... Reward two, since I've got two followers and like 120 views from 75 visitors... I'm pretty happy about that. So here ya go... Nicknames the countries have for each other.**

**Country nicknames**

**Ireland: Eire, Irish, Arr, and Guinness (sometimes shortened to Guinny/ Ginny/Ginsy) .  
Northern Ireland: North and Northy  
Scotland: Scots, Scotty and Scott  
Wales: Where? Welchy, that one, Whale and Sheepland  
The Channel Islands: Channy, Channing and Frenchy.  
The Isle of Man: Manning, Man, Manny, Manic and Mayhem.  
England: English, Iggy and Britsy **

**Human name nicknames. (the U.k members are all also kirklands)  
Ireland: Eamon,(Eiremhon) Byrne: Aya, Em, Mona, Er, Byrnsy,  
North: Darragh Byrne: Dar, Rags, Byrny, Rarah. Gingy.  
Scotland: Alisdair Lennox: Ali, Alis, Dare, Lennox, Lenny.  
Wales: Stacey (yes he's a boy) Brydon: Stace, Stay, Bry, Bryty,  
Channing: Mark Smith: Marci, Marky, Marcellium, Smithy, Smithson, Smit.  
Man: Irwin Doyle: Irr, Winty, Winny, Irmister.  
England: Arthur Kirkland: Art, Arty, Arto, lala-land.  
**

**Next up... America gets his morning.**


	4. America: what happened last night pt 1

**My sincerest apologies for the week long silence. My granny passed away and we had to go to Italy for her funneral. I'm Irish Italian and English. So many clashing stereotypes. My granny was Italian, hence Italy, hence no internet. Sorry for the lack of update. My granny would scold me for letting you down.**

* * *

Regret, fuzzy memories, pain... So much pain. His stomach lurched again and more of its contents. America regretted being in anyway involved with Ireland and Scotland having a drinking contest. Where was he, the bathroom, had he passed out there he couldn't remember. And to make everything worse Wales was sleeping all too close to him. Every sound that was going around the house echoed in his aching mind. The clatter from Man and Channing running around doing their morning routine.

"Scotland what the bloody hell did you do last night?!"  
"Don't look at me! I can't remember,"  
"Look at her, smiling and she made breakfast."

He couldn't quite piece together the facts in there, partially because he was still throwing up at far too frequent intervals. The door behind him opened the seemingly booming voice of Northern Ireland actually caused him pain.

"Well the hero seems to have lost to his great nemesis... And made a friend? You Wales must of had some fun last night. Let's get you off that floor.,"

America tried to talk back, trying being the key word and talking meaning moaning. Northern Ireland put his arms under the Americans and dragged him away and through the house to the kitchen. For a little guy he pretty strong.

"Iggy-brows you could do anything to him now, he's all yours, if you want?"  
"Bugger off you wanker."  
"but think about it, you wouldn't be a wanker any more if you had Alf in this state... that said, he might be on his way to becoming a Welsh territory."  
"Who let Wales out?"

America lifted his weary head. Northern Ireland was laughing, England looked, well he looked like he usually did plus he had a hickey on his neck. Oh God what had happened last night.

"Can I give him my cure?"

That accent. That warm and musical Irish accent of his big sister of sorts was far to friendly for this time of day... She had drank more then he had, that he remembered. Was this her hangover?

"Emm, Listen sis, it's nothing personal..."

Northern Ireland was cut off by Scotland putting his hand over the younger man's mouth.

"Yes, let's cure the laddie. Cure him really well."

The two people he feared the most in that moment looked over at him with sychonised demonic smiles he would run if his legs were not, for all sakes and purpose made of jelly.

* * *

It was now nearly eleven. After many various drinks containing raw eggs, spinach, rum and various other combinations to make the evil concoctions, an extra greasy fry, hot tea with 4 spoons of sugar and very strong cup of black coffee America could safely say he felt no better.

"Hmm, well I think we've tried everything."  
"I agree, just give him the berocca and let him learn his lesson."

He was handed a glass filled with fizzing liquid and a pill. It looked lie another evil "cure". Still he drank it. Not felling much better but able to stand and walk he went up to the guest room and collapsed onto the bed and slept.

* * *

**So America learns the hard way not to try and drink as much as Scotland or Ireland and especially not both. So who gave England the hickey? Why is Ireland in such a good mood? Why did America drink those cures? Is he going to be a Welsh territory? Find out in the next chapter: What happened last night? *Dramatic music and lighting*****  
**


	5. What happened last night pt 2

"We've worked out what happened to us last night now. There's two more left, England and Ireland. So who want to question Ireland?"

Scotland was pacing around the room. Northern Ireland had pulled on a Sherlock Holmes hat, Wales was singing in Welsh and Manny was sleeping in a bowl of dry Cereal. They remained silent as he took a box of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of his pj's.

"Doesn't anyone respect my authority!"  
"No offence Lennox, I'd really rather live,"  
"Darragh, she is your sister she'll... She'll probably try to kill you if you push her too hard. Wales you question Ireland. I will deal with England. Lovely little baby brother England."  
"Why do I get the mad woman?"  
"Stacey, Ireland is not mad... She just a little different."  
"That's my sister you're talking about!"

With that the Irishman and the Welshman began fighting. Scotland giving up on ever getting the family to work together without doing that long ago and carried out his side of the plan.

Since breakfast and giving America his "cures" England had gone into his room, the one place he could escape from his brothers. He was somewhat hungover, but it was nowhere near as bad as America's. Last night was a blur, he was trying to piece it together when that sound he dreaded most came. The knocking of Scotland on his bedroom door. He knew it was Scotland as Scotland had a tendency to knock by kicking. That meant he wanted something,

"What is it Scot, I'm busy,"  
"well if you're that busy I should have made North give you America."  
"Bugger off Scotland, that's not what I'm doing."

Scotland entered the room, always taller then him, always brooder then him his eldest brother. Experience taught him to look for something in his hands, they were empty in fact his brother was still in his pj's. The ones Ireland gave him two years ago for a Christmas present. It was a nice gift to be honest, the designs on it were reminiscent of the designs that featured so heavily in bronze age designs.

"I need to ask you about..."

He tapped the side of his neck, showing a lot more consideration for him then Northern Ireland had when he yelled,  
"England's got a boyfriend, England got a boyfriend!"  
Scotland was actually looking at him the way he had imagined an older brother would. The bed sank under the his weight as he sank back, on one hand England admired his older brother on the other hand, this brother used to be so mean to him, still was so mean to him if it took his fancy.

"look, I know this sort of thing can be embarrassing, but I think you should make sure you're okay with whatever went down last night. I know you, you can get attached in the wrong way to things."  
"what's that supposed to mean?"  
"It's just a warning. I want you to be careful, you know think it through. Don't focus on you're target, think about you're actions,"  
"you sound like Ireland."  
"Quoting her, sometimes if you listen to what she say's in those morning ill tempered rants she says real gold."  
"Hmm, so maybe I should show up to meetings late wearing my pj's and scratching my balls with a fork,"  
"if you do, I'm taking over running the union."  
"Well I've already lost my dignity, why not everything else?"  
"Oh no, you're not losing me that easily!"

With that Scotland did the most brotherly of actions, a hug in to a headlock. This would under a normal circumstances result in irritated whining from England but this morning they were both laughing. Finding himself released from the tight grasp stood up straight.

"Have you seen Ireland this morning? I mean since you two were filling America with God know what."  
"wait until she's not hungover, she's pretty volatile in the mornings, especially when she's hungover,"  
"so the God mood..."  
"can turn faster then an Italian running from battle."

* * *

"You call my sister that ever again, I will end you!"

Northern Ireland walked away from the commotion he had left in the kitchen. The sounds of the fight had woken up Manny. one thing lead to another, there were cheerios everywhere, Wales was bound up in tin foil duct tape and cling film. Yeah North was pretty proud of his fight, no one ever expected him to fight and win. NO ONE! He was just left with one problem, volatile, unsteady Ireland. He reached the door of her room and knock lightly, hoping that she hadn't been asleep.

"Come in,"  
"hey Ay."

The girl was sitting on her bed, surrounded by pages. Some had drawings, other scraps of writing probably some poetry. She was the only person in the house wearing day clothes. He sat down next to her looking at one picture, it was a sketch of Scotland and Wales throwing a rugby ball, the perspective was excellent.

"Do you remember what happened last night?"  
"We went out, America passed out because he got competitive with the wrong crowd of drinkers. You left with Scotland, England carried me home."  
"He had to carry you home!?"  
"he didn't have to, a game got a bit out of hand and he refused to put me down."  
"How drunk were you?"  
"I'm not hungover."  
"You're in to good a mood for anything else to be an explanation,"  
"maybe I am. Still better then you. You started crying and apologising to me last night,"  
"what?"  
"You're a depressed drunk, remember. Does "ah Eamon, I'm so sorry I shouldn't have left you everybody always leaves you. It's not fair I'm such an awful brother." sound familiar to you."  
"Your moods to stable. What happened to you?"  
"I dunno. I woke up and felt... happy,"

He had never heard Ireland come straight out with her feelings like that. It prompted him to shove his hand onto her head to check her temperature. He stared in to her eyes, bright blue and sparkling a little. She wasn't lying, this was not a hangover.

"So you and Arthur are on... good terms, right now?"  
"Better then ever, though that's really not a challenge,"  
"how good?"  
"Above average,"  
"... so you wouldn't know who his boyfriend is?"

"OH! MY! GOD!"

* * *

The yells of the Irish man woke the American for the second time that day. At least now he wasn't feeling quite as bad as earlier. He, in order to avoid the horror of the fight, went towards the kitchen.

"Hello darling,"  
"darling?"

America looked at the bound Welsh man with a sense of fear and dread. He had heard something about being a "welsh territory" his eyes widened in shock as some memories of the previous night.

"Karaoke with me!"

A tiny Welshman was standing in front of him in the living room on England's house. He held a microphone right into his face and hit play. The opening of glees mashed up versions of "walking on sunshine" and "Halo" blasted out. He took the mike and began to sing. He didn't just stop there, he worked his way through almost the entire Glee season one soundtrack, with Wales until he ran into the bathroom to be sick for the first time that night.

As the memory faded back to reality he saw the Welsh man smiling at him. Oh how he had only reached the start of the entire night...

* * *

**America, I'm so mean to you... This was a long chapter, I'm sorry if it's a bit boring in places. Will the next chapter be my last... will this one be your last find out tomorrow... Same Bat time, Same bat channel! (1960's batman, anyone, anyone?) **


	6. Three cheers for filler!

**Okay I've lost my proper sixth chapter. don't worry, I remember how it goes I've just got to re-write it so it might take a little while longer then usual. So to make up for my silliness, here's Northern Ireland talking about his family! Skip it if you want, no plot, just filler.**

* * *

Okay so looking around me right now, Ireland and England are yelling at each other, normal enough. Scotland is just about hit both of them in an effort to shut them up. Me, what am I doing, oh I'm just underneath Scotlands foot. I tried to hit England and he floored me. I looking at everything from ground level, and boy am I glad ireland doesn't like wearing dresses. Oh my God. England hasn't hoovered in ages. It's disgusting down here. I can hear Wales and America, they're just downstairs in the kitchen. We're in the hall. Right now I glad of Scotland not wearing shoes, but his feet really stink, kinda like he's been walking through fox shit.

Well... My favourite brother is Scotland... Not right now, right now my favourite brother is which ever one gets this lug off me. He's always been the nicest to me, it's not saying much. He's a firm believer in tough love. Scotland likes Ireland, they're not related and back before the first act of union, they were unofficially together. They were quite happy together, but in the end it sort of drifted back to friends... I really hope they never get back together. Think of the hairy, ginger and pale children. They would never be able to venture into the sunlight. Let's not even think of personality traits they'd inherit. I hope he sticks in the union, I'd miss him if he left.

Wales is just creepy. End off. He wasn't always like that, it just happened after the second world war. It kinda brought it out stronger in him. No actually it probably was always there but the second world war made that his strongest trait. He loves to sing, and knows a surprising amount about herbal medication. He became a bit of a pyromaniac after his dragon died, I guess the fire makes him feel close to his former companion. I think I'd go crazy with out my little companion so.. I suppose it's not his fault. He's bitter about Ireland getting out of the union, but I think he had a crush on her. He's somewhat yandere if that the case.

Ireland. Sister of mine how you confuse me. Not a morning person Ireland, but some how she will always get your back if it's trouble, or get you back in revenge. I know we've issues...I don't wanna talk about it. We're working on things at the minute, fixing this and that. It's slow but getting there. She and England have a weird relationship. It's a love hate odd friendship. They like horses(Ireland does three unarguably things right, 1. Raising cattle, 2. Making butter 3. Horses), and their sense of humour is nearly identical. Ireland wants to hate him, he wants her as an ally, it always comes out wrong between the two of them. In their own way, they've work out a lot of the major issues. They fight, a lot. But it's good fighting. Healthy like.

England, my oh my. Half brother eyebrows. Don't get me wrong, I like him. I probably get along best with him in the U.k. but there's just something about him that makes me want to run away. It might be his eyebrows, I swear one day they're going going to devour him in his sleep! Then Wales is going to take over running the Union.

I should probably do something about all the yelling going on above me. Scotland hit Ireland on the head, and she's back to herself. I'm not sure I'm happy about her return but if that's who she is. Hey England joined me on the ground! Ireland and Scotland are yelling at each other in Irish and Scottish respectively.

* * *

**So Northern Ireland actually gets a chance to talk to you directly. Hmm. This is a plotless chapter. Very plotless. I'm even publishing it on the same day as my other chapter... oh dear.**


	7. The end for now

**I don't even have an excuse for why this took me as long as it did. I was lazy and didn't finish writing then had writers block and... Yeah. Lazy.**

* * *

England rubbed the mark on his neck. Stupid Ireland shouting at him, stupid Scotland hitting him, stupid Northern Ireland not being able to do anything himself and stupid America, no elaboration necessary. AND WALES! It was all his fault. Everything was all his fault.

Last night he, Scotland, Wales, America and the two Irelands went to the pub for a little drink. A lot of little drinks. Lots of little drinks with really, really high alcohol contents. Actually, he hadn't had any, he was only allowed one pint for he entire night, this wasn't stinginess, this was an act of family. Ireland had had a word with the barman (she always seems know who ever works behind the bar) and he had agreedto only let him have on pint, every other thing was a fizzy drink or mi-wadi, regardless of what he asked for.

that was really not the point.

Wales, like usual had taken over singing at the open mic, Ireland and Scotland were having a drinking contest (catagory: larger) and he was left with Northern Ireland who was a depressed drunk. Though, like everyone but him, it took a lot to make him actually drunk... In fact, there was one thing that was in his favour right here and right now. He could remember last night, fully.

* * *

Wales and America remained somewhat stuck together. Wales, no longer hungover had become silent around the American. His thoughts rested on trying to work out the fine details, actually, experience had taught him, sometimes you're better off not knowing the fine details, he just want to know what happened to make the usually upbeat American look so... Dejected.

* * *

Scotland and Ireland were sitting on the couch, well, Scotland was sitting... Ireland was in something that looked like a sprawled lotus position snoring... Scotland was blushing from the close contact. Northern Ireland was teasing his half brother over his feelings about Ireland. The house had semi-normalised (when is this house ever normal). Manny had decided to make lunch, given that from last night he was the only one who was in anyway feeling normal.

* * *

As a matter of fact, the Isle of man was always the sane man. Always normal. Always the getting forgotten one (more then Wales). He was happier like that when he saw days like this.

He knew that England was on his way down to the kitchen. He knew that because his room was above the kitchen.

"Manny, can you help me..."

England gestured at his love bite. His face was very red and flustered looking. His hair was a mess, it was probably a result from the alcohol...

"That's really..."

"Ireland will only help me if I tell her who gave it to me."

"Well who..."

"I'm not saying! Will you help me or not."

Manny gave it thought, he really did want to know who had done that... He was older then England, it was probably his big brother instinct being crazy.

"Get the first aid kit. I'll help while the soup simmers,"

* * *

Lunch was awkward. Ireland was getting ready to go back to her place, Northern Ireland decided he'd stay with her for a few days. Scotland refused to let his glare off England. England's glare wouldn't lift off Wales, Wales was looking at America who had taken refuge next to the Isle of Man.

"England's jealous of Wales and America!"

Northern Ireland stood up and yelled, leaving the room confused, hearing but not understanding the statement.

"I've worked this out... Please everyone listen to my answers."

The table were silent and looked at the small man, as he prepared for his speech. He pulled on his sherlock style hat and began

"It's become clear to me that the relationship between England and Ireland is somewhat complicated, and I'm not sure just how platonic either. This sort of relationship is seen between England and many other countries formerly ruled by the British Empire. Including America. Wales is currently claiming America as his "territory" and now Iggys jelly because America is with his brother, not him. America is feeling sad this morning because being with Wales last night made him feel bad about England. Scotland is glaring at England because England should move on."

"Nice theory kiddo, but it's wrong."

With that the table errupted into a very loud and messy battle ground. America retreated under the table to be soon joined by Ireland.

"So... is it true?"

"I don't know..."

* * *

America remembered Wales bringing him into the bathroom, he was ill from large quantities of alcohol. His stomach lost it's contents faster then an illegal emigrant goes back home when caught at customs.

England came into the bathroom with Wales standing over him trying to take his coat off. It probably looked bad from where he was standing. The two brothers got into a fight behind him. He being the hero should have helped. He should have been pulling the idiots apart but he was too intoxicated to form a sentence. He shouldn't have drank like that, none of this would have happened it the circumstances were different.

Wales, now on top of England bit his brothers neck, making him yell in pain and kick the Welshman off, he left the room holding his neck and cursing. The look that crossed his face- anger and his brother, and disapointment at America.

* * *

America stood up and stopped the fight... He had the story now, he would share it.

"Wales gave England the hickey!"

Poor choice of wording, Ireland land tackelled Wales yelling about having to teach him another lesson on sleep with relatives and Scotland slamed England into the wall.

"I mean to say... Wales bit England last night when England fought him"

A common sigh of relief flooded across the room. As strange and messed up as the family was. They were proud of the lack of incest. Yep that was something to be proud of in that family.

* * *

Ireland left to go home after patching Engalnds bite a bit more, she scolded him for not being honest with her then bid farewell to the messed up house she once was a member of, followed closely by the brother who had chosen to stay there. Rejoicing silently in her hard won independence, the week with her brothers had resulted in the rise of blood pressure and possibly aging her.

* * *

In the Union house the brothers remained silent for the rest of the day. America went home and after Scotland gave bother his brothers a thrashing for casing excessive amounts of worry they returned to normal. Except for a note on the channel islands saying that France had kidnapped him and that he needed help...

* * *

**So it's finished. I have a story in the works which will feature England and France fighting over the channel Islands. Did you like the ending? England has no boyfriend, sorry to those of you who wanted that... I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed this story. I really do appreciate it and I'm flattered by it. I apologize for the delay in getting this out there and hope you enjoyed it.**


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